


The Adoption

by Doberaptor



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Cloned Brother, F/F, F/M, Gen, Horde Clone - Freeform, Horde Clone freeform, Life in the Horde (She-Ra), M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:14:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29411760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doberaptor/pseuds/Doberaptor
Summary: A little reader-insert fic about adopting a 'harder to love' cloned Brother.Much overdue thank you's to people.  First off, a huge thank you toSoranis-Sunshadowfor her inspiring "Silent Brothers"--the cloned Brothers who are waiting for Prime's return, waiting in silent lines, refusing to adapt, clinging to the only way of life they've ever known.  They are a heartwrenching tragedy and I want to adopt them ALL.  You should go adopt some too.  Go read her story "Through a Mirror Darkly".  It is a masterpiece.And thank you to the amazing artist,Thelema-Rhoiasfor the portrait of this Nameless Brother and his all important oatmeal.  She captures his loss, his courage, and his love.
Relationships: Horde Prime Clones (She-Ra)/Original Character(s), Horde Prime Clones (She-Ra)/Reader
Comments: 23
Kudos: 27





	The Adoption

**Author's Note:**

> After the Great Disconnect and the fall of Prime, there are now countless cloned Brothers stranded on Etheria. Most of them find their way to Dryl, after all, this is where Princess Entrapta and Hordak live. The Brothers know they always have a place at Dryl, but Entrapta tries hard to help them build social networks into Etherian society. She tries to help them find homes of their own, with families for them. It is an arduous process, matchmaking these marooned Brothers with a people who do not really understand them. And some Brothers, like this nameless part of a whole, are harder to find homes for than others. 
> 
> He could stay in Dryl. He could. After all, Entrapta just wants them to be happy--that's the whole idea. But it is a lonely existence to wait for a god who has abandoned you. And perhaps, with just a little time, perhaps this one Brother can find his way out of the Shadows.

“Wait. So…..” Princess Entrapta doesn’t look happy. “Look. You….we have a lot of Brothers who are easy matches. I mean….why not one of them?”

But you only smile. “Because they’re easy to match. You can pair them up with anyone. Please. I promise you I won’t fail you. Please. I….know a thing or two about not fitting in.”

But Dryl’s Princess isn’t convinced. The Etherian in front of her looks far too regular, far too ‘normal’ for lack of a better word. You don’t look at all like someone who has any idea what ‘not fitting in’ even feels like. “I…..have to talk to Hordak first. You’ll…..just have to accept that.”

“Of course,” you respond, smiling. You knew it would be a fight, but it’s a fight you’re willing to have.

***

He arrives two days later. Accompanied by two other Brothers, both of whom are smiling and talkative and clearly well adjusted to Etherian culture. They give their names (“Ed” and “Sunfire”) and they have so much to say. You barely get a word in edgewise. Their companion says nothing. He looks down at the kitchen table where you are all sitting, staring at the woodgrain with a sort of intensity which, in any other species, might set it on fire through force of will alone. He’s not happy to be here.

“You have the list, correct? The list of foods? Because he will need all of those food items, please do not deviate. He is not adjusted to Etherian cuisine yet, so please do NOT deviate from the list…” This is Ed. He’s tapping the table with his clawed fingertip, rather adamant that you Follow The Rules if this is going to work.

Sunfire nods enthusiastically. His contributions are mostly just commentary on various things which taste good (farina, creamed wheat, honey, goats milk, NOT EGGS OH FOR THE LOVE OF LIGHT NOT EGGS, and farina, “Did I mention farina? Oh good. It IS delicious….”) and then there is a long pause. You think, mistakenly, that this is where you are to agree to the plan and all that.

“I know how to cook creamed wheat and oatmeal. I’m….actually pretty good at it.”

“Uh….no. That….is not the issue.” Ed glances at Sunfire, who glances back, and they both glance at the one they’ve brought, who continues to stare at the tabletop as if it contained all the secrets Prime never told them. “Uh….he is…..uh…..well, you did not exactly SAY this would be a problem but…..”

And finally the nameless one looks up. His ears are pinned back and his eyes are hard. “I am still Faithful. It is not difficult to say. Stop ACTING like it IS.”

The ears of both is companions droop unhappily. Ed comments, “Please. Try to understand.” Though it is unclear to whom, exactly, Ed is speaking.

“I don’t mind,” you say. Because you don’t. You knew this was a possibility.

The newcomer is not comforted. “I do not CARE if you MIND or NOT. My FAITH is not your concern.”

“Brother, please,” Sunfire tries, but he is cut off with a dismissive wave of the newcomer’s hand.

“And do NOT seek to apply a name to me. I have no name. I am but a part of the whole. You will accept that or I will leave.”

“Brother….” Now it is Ed. He sighs. He looks at you. “Please…..try to understand.”

“I do,” you say. You don’t actually, but you’re prepared to accept. “Please. You are welcome here, name or not.”

“Your welcome is meaningless to me.” And the glare the newcomer gives you makes it clear this is not just idle chatter.

***  
At first, it is awkward. You never realized how often you use someone’s name until they……don’t have one. And he’s not about to make it easy for you. You try little “non-names” like “honey” or “sweetie” or gods above, you even slipped up and called him “hey handsome.” Oh that did NOT go over well.

“Please.” Disdain dripped from the word. “Your species is repugnant. Do NOT attempt to apply your aesthetics to mine.”

But you’re patient. And you knew this was a possibility. “Okay. Well. Let’s try to be civil to each other. I am just asking if you’re ready for breakfast.”

“I am not. I do not wish to eat this morning.”

“Okay.” The list is very clear. Per Entrapta’s advice, he’s allowed to skip a meal here or there, but more than that and it indicates a problem. “Uh…..are you not hungry? Or….do you not feel well?”

“What I FEEL is not your BUSINESS.” He bares his teeth and pins his ears back. It’s a pretty convincing threat display. You find yourself stepping back.

“Okay. Yeah. Well….I’m going to check back when it’s time for lunch then. Does that sound okay to you?” Your voice shakes a little. Stars ABOVE his fangs are long.

“FINE.” But the angry ears come forward to a neutral position. And his lips close over those terrible teeth.

You force yourself to smile. “Thank you.”

At lunch, he eats three bites of a ham sandwich. Then he sets the food aside. “That is sufficient.”

You smile gently. “It’s…..probably not.”

But he just cocks his head at you and nearly smiles. It…..isn’t a pleasant smile. “And you will do…..what…..exactly about this?”

You smile without realizing it. But it’s that appeasement smile you do, the one you’ve done all your life when cornered or in trouble or caught doing something you shouldn’t. “Nothing. I’m just saying, it’s probably not enough. Is the food not to your liking? Or…..” You sigh, spreading your hands. “What can I do to……..help?”

Wrong word. You know it the moment it escapes your lips. His ears pin back, his lips draw up in a cold snarl, fangs bared again. “I do not REQUIRE your HELP.”

“Okay then.” And you pick up your plate and leave the table. You did this…..because he scared you. It’s so hard to face him when he does that thing with the ears and fangs. You didn’t think it would be a problem, but it’s just that they’re so…..big. And when they’re mad, they’re even BIGGER. Entrapta did say you could return him if you needed to. That she understood. That she welcomed it even and that she thought it was sweet that you would even try. “You can bring him back,” she said, smiling. “He always has a place….here.” Because he does. Dryl is the one sure thing the cloned Brothers have on Etheria. They will always have a place there, even if they can’t fit in anywhere else.

And for a moment, you consider returning him. You do. Your life was ordered. Peaceful. Comfortable. It was a good life. He’s not making things very ordered, peaceful, or good. He CLEARLY isn’t happy here. Maybe he’d be better off at Dryl…

But then you hear it. You hear the plate scrape on the table. And you hear the sound of…..chewing. He’s eating the sandwich. You walked away and he……started to eat. You realize he’s taught you something without meaning to.

***

At dinner, you don’t address him. You waited, sneakily, cooking stew on a very low simmer, just…..waiting. You didn’t call him in. You didn’t come look for him. You just…..waited. It took almost an hour. Almost. But then he came stomping in, looking irritable. “You are disorganized and have no sense of time,” he grouses.

You smile. “Apologies. I do have stew ready.” You don’t offer it. You simply pour some in a bowl for yourself, then some for him. You set his on the table near where he is standing. “It’s hot,” you warn. “Blow on it first.” Then you take your dinner and leave. You head into the kitchen.

You’re actually panting when you reach the kitchen sink. You’re entirely not sure if this was the right thing to do or NOT. It’s so intolerably RUDE. You’d NEVER do this to another Etherian. And he’s a GUEST. This violates the Etherian Laws of Hospitality. NOBODY DOES THIS. It’s just so……bad. But you’re not sure. You think this might be right. You set your stew aside and think about eating when you realize…. “DAMMIT.” You didn’t leave him any utensils to eat with. Why are you so BAD at this?

You walk out there with a spoon for him and a napkin and you catch him, his mouth full of stew, slurping it from the bowl. His glowing green eyes are wide, his angry forward ears are forward, but only for a moment, as they flatten in embarrassment the moment he sees you. “I….uh…..forgot to give you a fork,” you stammer. It’s a SPOON, you IDIOT. He doesn’t swallow. He just stares at you like he’s seen a ghost. You fling the spoon down and retreat to the kitchen. And you both eat separately.

But afterward, when you come back out to retrieve the bowl, it’s licked clean.

***

He sleeps in the room you allotted him. It has a big bed, a gargantuan structure heftily reinforced to support a cloned Brother’s weight, luxurious mattress atop it, both of which came from Dryl as part of the “adoption gift basket.” It’s much less of a “basket” and more of a “whole home furnishing” but you’re not complaining. He doesn’t sleep in the bed as far as you can tell, however. The linens you neatly arranged and tucked in aren’t ever disturbed.

“Uh….you can sleep in that bed….you know….”

He sneers at you. “I do not sleep lying down.”

“Oh.” You don’t bring it up again.

It’s day four and he’s still wearing his Galactic Horde uniform. The Care and Feeding Instructions page did mention this could be a thing. “Encourage bathing and changing clothing, but do not press the issue. Cloned Brothers do not produce significant body odor in absence of arduous activity, so bathing can be skipped for days at a time if necessary. Offer non-uniform clothing but do not force the issue. It is difficult for some of them to let go of the uniforms they have worn all their lives.”

“I….pressed your new tabards, if you want to see them…” You did more than that. You starched, pressed, and even fixed a few errant seams.

“I do not require alternative clothing,” he replies. But for once, the tone is not…..angry.

“Okay.” You accept this because…..what else can you do?

***

Bathing became an issue, but you knew it would. It’s a farm, after all, and the work’s arduous by nature. And eventually he began to stink.

At first, you didn’t know what it was. Just…..the whole house smelled like…..fermenting wine. Not that you’ve ever been a vintner, because you haven’t. But you went to COLLEGE. You’ve made ‘prison hooch’ in wineskins in the bathroom of your dorm and under your bed. You remember when a batch would get a little “too high” and you’d have to hastily drink it with your roommates, because sometimes even the best mix could turn mean if you left it untended for too long.

You made the mistake of mentioning it. It’s not your fault. They didn’t TELL you what ‘Clone BO’ smelled like. They just said there was a potential for them to start stinking with arduous activity. But nope, you had to put your foot right in it, commenting “Why does this WHOLE DAMN HOUSE smell like a fermentation vat in high summer?”

He actually blushed, his ears flattening in embarrassment. “Apologies,” he says hastily. “The fault is mine.”

“It is?”

“It….is. Again. Apologies. I will…….remedy the situation.”

And he excuses himself to bathe outside in the cold well water.

“WAIT!” you yell, once you realize what he’s doing. “I can make you hot water! It’s COLD out here….please….” Also there are neighbors. Yes, they’re ten acres away but still, he’s so BIG, they might just notice if he’s…… “OH!” stark….ass….naked.

“What?” he asks, looking up from the hand pump where he’s doling water out into a bucket, then rinsing himself, in between scrubbing with soap he’s found, you have no idea where. You’re staring. He’s……..well, he’s very pleasingly built. You’re willing to admit that. Very….pleasingly built. You blush, averting your eyes.

“Apologies,” you stammer. “I was going to offer you hot water. If you had given me….the chance to heat some up for you…”

“No need,” he says, returning to his work. “This is adequate.”

“It’s freezing.”

“No. It is merely cold. If it were freezing, it would be in solid form,” he explains, as if you’re a child and have no idea how ice is made.

“I’m……” you glance up once again and see him…..ahem….from the front. He appears to have nearly no modesty whatsoever. Which is odd, as he won’t even EAT in front of you, but bathing in the backyard completely nude is somehow….fine?

“Uh….” Again, you drop your eyes, but not before you’ve seen him fully. Where you expected something…….unmistakably masculine, there is only a discrete slit. You remember reading something about this, that clone genitalia was held internally until required for use. “But they’re male,” Entrapta had mentioned. “Just to be clear.” What you just saw doesn’t…..exactly look male. But the rest of him surely does. You decide to not ask for clarification. “Uh……do you…..uh…….want a towel?”

“I do. Yes.” And after a moment. “Thank you.”

You race back to the house for a towel and thankfully you have the presence of mind to grab one of his cleaned, pressed, reseamed tabards. You bring both out and offer them. “Uh…..here.”

“My thanks.” His words are dry but not…..harsh. Not filled with annoyance or disdain. Just…..’my thanks’ and he takes the items from you.  
***

At breakfast the next morning, he’s wearing one of those non-uniform tabards. And when you set his creamed wheat down and start to dart back into the kitchen so he’ll eat, you’re stopped by the sound of his voice. He is whispering something. You look back and his head is bowed. He is holding the bowl of creamed wheat in both hands as if it is an offering. He raises it up once, “In your Light I beg forgiveness….” Then he sets the bowl back down. He realizes then you are watching. “What?” he asks flatly.

“Nothing,” you reply. You try something. You take your bowl, you walk over to the table. You sit down across from him. You hold the bowl with both hands. You raise it up and murmur quietly, “In your Light, I am grateful for your company.” You set the bowl down. You meet his acid green gaze. And you WILL yourself to hold it.

He stares for a long moment. Then he starts to eat.

***  
A week goes by. And now you find yourself making cookies for him. You’re not a baker. You can cook, yes, but it’s hardly impressive culinary skill. And you couldn’t make a CAKE to save your LIFE. But you’re suddenly making, of all things, cookies for him.

“These have cinnamon in them.”

“The white stuff on these is powdered sugar.”

“These have raisins in them.”

You try, unsuccessfully, to ascertain what kinds of cookies he likes. He appears to eat them all without relish OR reservation. He treats them as a dog might treat kibble—valuable for an empty stomach, but hardly noteworthy. But then, he treats your stew the same way, even though it was your grandmother’s recipe and it has carrots, potatoes AND rosemary. Food is a means to an end—you eat because you must if you wish to survive.

He eats well. Sunfire’s returned twice to check on you. He makes a poor joke that Ed thought you were dead since no one heard from you and this Brother isn’t known for his sense of humor. Sunfire laughs long and hard at this, while his nameless Brother just glares. “Oh. Apologies. I forgot…you do not have a sense of humor,” Sunfire admits, stifling a smile. “And look at YOU! Not dead!” he says to you.

“Not dead. Nope. Go me!”

“Go you INDEED. Strong work!”

Sunfire says Princess Entrapta is absolutely thrilled to see the Nameless One’s progress. He asks about a name, and immediately the ears pin back and a hint of fang is shown. “I REQUIRE no such thing,” your companion rumbles ominously. And Sunfire starts to argue, trying to explain that ‘Names are good’ and that ‘This is part of Etherian culture’ and….

….you interrupt. “I’m fine if he doesn’t want a name.”

Sunfire looks at you like you might have grown horns and another head. “You are FINE with this?”

“Sure,” you shrug, trying to sound truthful. “He is a nameless part of the whole. But I would know him anywhere.”

Wow. That slipped out, didn’t it? You hadn’t intended to quite say THAT. Nameless’ ears flicker, then flatten in embarrassment. And Sunfire, oh dear. Sunfire thinks this is adorable. “Oh. My. LIGHT. No.” He presses his palms to his cheeks. “This is so WONDERFUL!”

“No. Wait. Sunfire…..please….” you try, but no, it’s much too late for trying anything. Sunfire is a terrible romantic and he’s been in love with Ed for forever. So he assumes everyone else is in love too.

“Cease your absurd behavior,” your nameless companion snarls at Sunfire.

But it’s not exactly successful.

***

Three weeks pass. You didn’t realize how quickly it would go either. One moment, he’d just arrived, and the next, it was nearly the One Month Anniversary. (Which Princess Entrapta says is a very big thing for the Brothers. They like celebrations. They like parties. And little dates like this are terribly important to remember.)

“Uh…..the One Month Anniversary’s coming up,” you comment, setting a plate of pancakes in front of him. He still doesn’t have a name. But you’ve made it clear the choice is his no matter what Ed or Sunfire say.

“Yes. I am aware,” he replies. He reaches out for your hands, which you offer, and he bows his head. “In your Light, I beg forgiveness. Cast out the Shadows.”

“Cast out the Shadows,” you reply. You wonder if he realizes you don’t believe the words or attach any meaning to them at all. You’re just going through the motions to help him feel at home.

He releases your hands and begins to eat the pancakes. But then, he eats in front of you all the time now. Even the cookies. You still have no idea what his favorite flavors are or if he even likes them at all. Food appears to be food, and taste is secondary, if considered at all.

“So, the Anniversary….”

“Please don’t,” he mutters around a mouthful of pancake.

“Don’t celebrate it or don’t bring it up?”

“Yes.”

Well, okay then. So much for parties with this one. That afternoon you two plowed the far field and he stank of rotting fruit by the end of it. But you smile at him, leaning into his sweaty side on the long walk back to the house. “Don’t bathe at the well pump. I have a better idea.”

You’re really proud of this idea too. You are SO proud of it. Yes, you’ve been heating water for him in buckets so he can wipe himself down in the evenings and it’s indoors and not cold. But this is different. This is…..luxury.

You bought the tub as the One Month Anniversary Gift. You’re a little saddened there won’t be a party but this is still…..still something you hope he’ll like. The tub itself is nothing more than a large livestock trough, but you paid to have it magicked. It fills with water on command. And the water is warm. You can even make the water hot. It’s clever. You put it in the shed where there was room for it. And it was a good enough place to hide it.

“Lemme show you!” you say, and you’re dragging him out to the garden shed.

When you open the door, you can feel the Brother’s surprise. His ears flicker uncertainly. The entire interior of the shed has been drywalled and painted. It has little curtains at the window. It has a mirror on the wall. And there’s little seashell decorations all over the walls, to make it…… “bath-like.” And in the middle is that giant tub. “So….watch!” And you say the operating word and the water begins to fill. And you say how hot you want it. And you wait.

The reaction is……..not what you’d expected.

“What….THE SHADOWS…..is it DOING??”

“It’s MAGIC!” You’re thrilled. You’re not a magical being, so even small cantrips are fun for you. And this was big magic. Rather….expensive magic if you were entirely honest. “It’s like a giant pool for bathing. And it’s WARM! You can make it any temperature you WANT it to be.” You…….well, you’ve already swam in it. You’ve filled it and emptied it half a dozen times already, swimming in it like a freshwater dolphin, frolicking in the luxurious warmth and thinking you might get as much use out of it as he does. But when you turn to look at his face, he’s……horrified.

He takes a step back. His ears blanch to stark white. “Oh….Prime no. Please no. Please please PLEASE no.”

“Uh….it’s just magic. It’s….okay. It’s okay. It’s just warm water. It’s just….”

But he’s already three steps out the door, still staring in horror. “I was faithful. I was faithful. NONE of this is my FAULT. I was FAITHFUL.”

You realize the error then. And it’s huge. It’s not your fault either. There’s no way you could have known. Nobody told you. It wasn’t mentioned anywhere in the “Care and Feeding” instructions. Even the talkative duo Ed and Sunfire hadn’t mentioned it. Princess Entrapta hadn’t mentioned it. But then you remember the comments about bathing. That it could be ‘an issue.’ You assumed it had to do with hygiene. You assumed it was a symptom of depression perhaps, that if they didn’t bathe it had to do with inability to process self care. You assumed…..

“Oh no. I’m so sorry.” You turn back to empty the tub, but he’s gone the moment you look away.

You don’t find him immediately. And that scares the Shadows out of you. You look in the house, in his room, in the barn, in the fields. It’s still daylight, which is the ONLY saving grace here, but still, he’s GONE. He’s gone and you have NO idea where he’s gone TO and he’s VULNERABLE and SCARED and….

Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that you were scared of him? What with his big teeth and growly rumbling and angry ears?

You look back on that time and it actually makes you angry. You understood so little of these Brothers. ALL of Etheria understands so little of them. According to other Etherians, these stoic, strange Brothers are all just loveable, somewhat simple sweethearts who just need names and love. And you know now how wrong that actually is. That they’re very complex people who’ve been through unspeakable pain and they need a whole heck of a lot more than love and dumb names.

They need understanding.

You yell and search and yell some more. And you’re yelling just stupid stuff. “HEY BROTHER! PLEASE COME OUT! PLEASE. BROTHER PLEASE!!!!!” You’ve never called him ‘Brother’ nor has he ever called you ‘Sister’ or ‘Brother’ or……..anything. You realize that now. It’s been three weeks. He’s never once called you by your name. You wonder if he even knows it. You try yelling your name, saying it’s you, saying it’s okay, saying you’re sorry, saying to please come out, please.

You really wish he’d come out.

“I’m so scared your hurt or lost. PLEASE come out!”

When did this……start to hurt like this? When did that……happen?

You find him eventually. He’s on your neighbor’s farm, and the old goat’s complaining about him. “Get him out of my BARN! I got two cows due to calf any second now and if he SCARES them….”

“He’s not going to scare your stupid cows.” You want to punch him in his stupid goat face. But you don’t. Because he’s right, your companion is in his barn, pressing his back to the wall, staring at a beam of filtered sunlight coming through the broken glass window. He’s staring. And shaking. You reach for his hand and hold it very, very carefully. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “I found you. You’re safe. Let’s go home. You’re safe.”

He nods quickly, never taking his eyes off the light coming through that broken glass window. But when you give him a little tug, he follows you home.

***  
You put a lock on the shed door. You try giving him the key, but he refuses it. He wants nothing to do with the lock, the building, the key, or the horror that lives inside. “I’ll….ask Petra to come get the tank and take it away….” Petra, his wife, and his 12 children could frolic in the pool like freshwater dolphins.

That night you heat a bucket of warm water and help him bathe. He can’t look at the bucket. His eyes are riveted on the wall, on the fireplace, on the window, anywhere but on the water. So you dip a washcloth in the bucket and methodically wipe down each body part, talking to him in a soothing quiet voice you usually reserve for skittish horses or frightened children. He keeps repeating that it is not his fault, he did not mean to sin.

“You haven’t sinned,” you reply quietly. “Eating’s not a sin. Living here’s not a sin. You’ve done nothing wrong…”

But he looks at you, his electric green eyes full of unspeakable pain. His proud, angry ears flatten low and submissive. And he smiles the saddest, most regret-filled smile.

And all he says is your name. 

He says your name and his voice…..it has this richness to it you’ve never heard before. He says your name and no one, NO ONE, has ever said your name. Not like that. Not to you. 

He says your name. And you know the truth now. You know his sin.

***

Sunfire comes to see them on the fifth week. He’s louder than usual and absurdly happy. He’s got a crown of flowers in his hair, which apparently Ed made for him. “I’m never taking it off!” For once, Sunfire is not full of questions about how the nameless one is doing. He’s far too busy telling both of you about how Ed has a new project, he’s learning to paint and how he’s already made 10 portraits of Sunfire, each of them better than the last.

It is an enjoyable visit, at least for Sunfire, who eats up all the cookies, drinks the tea, and tells you both in tremendous detail all about how to mix ochre and linseed oil to make the perfect color of dirt. Accuracy matters to Sunfire, even if it’s only for the background objects.

When he leaves, you’re actually a little grateful to see him go. He’s so………much…….sometimes. Even your companion mutters quietly, “He is……..a great deal.” He slides an arm across your shoulders.

“Shadows YES,” you agree, reaching up to catch and hold the clawed fingertips.

He still doesn’t have a name. He is still but a part of a whole. But you would know him anywhere. Instantly. He could be no one else to you.

He whispers your name to you, and bends to kiss the top of your head. “You are singular to me, as well.”

A heartfelt portrait of The Nameless Brother and his sacred oatmeal by [Thelema_Rhoias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelema_Rhoias/profile)


End file.
